


The Baby Shower

by a_taller_tale



Series: Five Reds and a Baby [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Fluff, Found Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/pseuds/a_taller_tale
Summary: Its in Grif’s best interest that Simmons never overthink the situation. If Simmons thinks about it too much, he might realize that he's taking care of Grif’s kid and not getting anything out of it. Grif resolves to keep him as distracted as possible until the kid is ready to move out and go to college.People showing up on Red Base’s doorstep one random morning with balloons and ribbons and crates of baby shit put a definite hitch in Grif’s plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zeuswrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeuswrites/gifts).



> This is for Zeus, who sent me several asks with headcanons for the lieutenants reacting to Little D, and it morphed into them throwing grimmons a baby shower for Red Team's new addition. 
> 
> "The idea of a baby shower being thrown in Chorus finally recovering after years of war, by soldiers who haven't done anything but fight for much longer, is honestly so sweet. Everyone who attended must have felt like this was the sign thing have finally changed. :') "

It was in Grif’s best interest that Simmons never overthink the situation. 

When he overthinks, he worries. And if he worries he’ll question shit. And they had a system. It didn’t need questioning. 

And, if Simmons thought about it too much, he might realize that he was taking care of Grif’s kid and not getting anything out of it. 

Watching Simmons absently rub Little D’s back as the baby snuggled into his shoulder and started to sleep the unequaled sleep of the milk drunk, Grif was more positive than ever he couldn’t do this parenting thing without him. He resolved to keep Simmons as distracted from asking questions as possible until the kid was ready to move out and go to college. 

People showing up on Red Base’s doorstep one random morning with balloons and ribbons and _crates of baby shit_ put a definite hitch in Grif’s plans. 

“Surprise!” Palomo yelled as he shoved in, almost dropping everything he was carrying all over the floor. Grif was starting to get why Tucker found him so annoying. 

“Uh, yeah. It is. What the fuck is happening?” Grif asked flatly. 

Donut shoved Grif out of the way to open the door wide, and beckon everyone inside. “The baby shower is here!” Their lieutenants, Dr. Grey, _and President Kimball_ all entered. Blue Team was right behind them. 

Sarge appeared with his shotgun at the ready. “Halt, Blues!” 

“But Sarge!” Donut protested, with that favorite-child-whine that Sarge never seemed to be able to say no to. “They brought presents!” 

“They just kidnapped our baby not a week ago!” Sarge said passionately, cocking his gun. 

“We didn’t—” Wash protested, but Carolina cut him off. 

“We’re not here to kidnap the baby. We brought a cake.” 

Sarge growled consideringly, but one of Red Team’s primary directives had always been food acquisition, so he slowly lowered his gun and allowed the Blues and Carolina to pile in too. 

With Donut and Andersmith leading the charge, the main living area of the base was decorated with Christmas lights and pink crepe paper within minutes. “Uh, Donut. Why is the base pink?” 

“A Red Baby gets a red baby shower and this particular shade of red is _watermelon, not pink,_ ” Donut sniffed. “If you had planned your own event, you could have chosen the color scheme.” 

“Okay, okay. Calm down. It’s a great color.” And he was eyeing the table that was being set with the cake and little hors d’ouvres. He was interrupted from getting a plate by Simmons finally coming in to investigate all the noise. 

“Guys, keep it _down_! Dexter can’t even hear the Red Team manual over all the noise. We just got to his favorite part—” Simmons instinctively pulled the baby in closer to himself seeing all the people in armor in their living room. “What’s going on?” 

“They’re throwing a party for the kid,” Grif grumbled. “I told them to go home, but they wouldn’t. They brought free stuff though.” 

“Oh my gosh!” Jensen slurred through her braces. “He looks just like Grif!” The LTs crowded forward, Grey and Kimball leaning forward more sedately, but no less eagerly. 

“Well, I guess that’s because he’s my clone?” Grif said, but no one was paying him any attention as they _oo_ ed and _aw_ edover the baby. 

“Oh, he’s so cuuuuute,” Palomo cooed. All the people from Chorus were acting a little over the top. Even the normally serious Kimball was getting all emotional. Oh shit, was Andersmith actually _crying_? 

Come to think of it, Grif hadn't seen a ton of kids, even after people from hidden outer settlements had been given the all clear. Shit. How long had this colony been at war for? This was probably the first baby they’d seen in a long time. Well, that was a depressing thought. 

“Okay,” Simmons sighed. “No one’s touching him with their armor on. Grif, get the hand sanitizer.” 

Like the kid hadn’t been rolling around in the dirt with them the other day. Grif sighed and went to retrieve it as the kids eagerly discarded their armor. Surprisingly, Bitters was the first one ready, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded like it was just a coincidence that he was here at all and couldn’t give a shit about babies. 

“Bitters won,” Grif declared, and Simmons very carefully laid Little D in his lieutenant’s arms. Luckily Donut was documenting the party, so he’d have a picture of Bitters with that sappy look on his face to blackmail him with. He thought he caught Matthews covertly snapping a photo too. 

Grif was eyeing Donut’s canapes. How he had made so many tiny hors d'oeuvres without anyone noticing was a mystery. Locating food was a Red Team specialty, but Donut could be pretty crafty. And since the party had started, Donut probably wouldn’t hit him with a wooden spoon for digging in. 

A perky Doctor Grey stepped right in his path. “Did I hear someone mention cloning?” 

“Uhhhh.” Foiled again. Caboose was already over there, piling a plate with food higher than his head. If Grif wasn’t able to extricate himself from pointed small talk about what kind of freak show his kid was, Caboose was gonna take all the good stuff! 

She stepped into his eye line again, blocking Grif’s view of the beautiful pile of mini-hot dogs. “Do you know what cloning process was used? Cloning is still frowned upon across most of the galaxy. I know I got a strongly worded letter at one point.” 

“I dunno, Sarge ordered him out of a mail order catalog when we were stationed in Valhalla. I don’t know how he even finds this stuff.” 

Sarge appeared at the mention of his name, and he had stolen the baby from whoever had him, bouncing him up and down in his arms while Little D gurgled happily. “That’s right, I paid for him and the dirt bag purposely sabotaged my plan to have a copy of myself to be my second in command!” 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Besides, you’re still calling Little D your second in command, so what's the problem?” 

Caught, Sarge looked like he was gearing up for an explosion, but Grey interrupted. “Maybe it’s a good thing it worked out the way it did. I’m not sure the universe could handle two men like our Sarge.” 

Sarge paused and then waggled an eyebrow, his mustache twitching upwards. Ugh, no, was this flirting? He was not watching Sarge flirt, gross. 

Grey gripped Grif's arm tightly when he tried to get past her again. “Feel free to bring him by for a pediatric check-up. Free of charge!” But she wasn’t looking at Grif this time. The way Grey was eyeing his baby with scientific interest was creeping him out too. 

Grif was barely able to get three of each thing on his plate before Donut started ringing _a bell, really?_ “It’s time for the baby to open his presents!” he declared, plucking Little D from Sarge’s arms and depositing him with Simmons. Kid was being passed around like a football. “He’s not big enough, so one of the lucky parents will have to help him!” 

Simmons shook his head “Huh? Me? I’m not—” 

“You had that checklist of things you wanted for him, right?” Grif cut him off smoothly, walking over to where the presents had been piled by the couch and putting his plate safely behind him and out of reach of anyone else so he could guard it. The lieutenants were going hard on the food too. He didn’t trust Bitters at all. “You can check stuff off while I open it.” 

Simmons’ eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to be organized. “You know the presents aren’t for you, right?” 

“Well, I gotta scope it all out and make sure it’s safe. I’ll only pocket the really _good pacifiers_ for myself.” 

Matthews and Smith chuckled, and Grif and Simmons realized they had an audience at the same time. Everyone at the party was circled around them. Little D, who was very chill about being passed around, was given over to Smith so Simmons could go into the documents in his datapad. Kid started snoozing almost immediately. 

It was going to be a serious challenge to keep Simmons from freaking out when he _really_ realized he was Little D's dad. Grif stomped down his own nerves and ripped into the first gift.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Someday, everything the light touches will be his! _And he’ll need to defend it!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being three chapters, because I need the wrap-up to be in Simmons' POV. Stay tuned.

The awkwardly wrapped package was at the top of the pile. From the newspaper hastily taped over it and the odd shape, it screamed _an old man wrapped this_. It was 100% from Sarge. 

“I wonder what this is…” Grif said flatly, ripping the paper open to reveal... “—It’s a gun.” 

“Of course it is!” 

“We’re not giving him this.” 

Sarge took his shotgun back with a growl. “I wouldn’t give a gun to a baby before teaching him how to shoot! It’s symbolic. Someday, everything the light touches will be his! _And he’ll need to defend it!_ ” 

“You weren’t told about the surprise baby shower,” Grif determined. 

“Shut it, dirtbag.” 

“Sarge didn’t do so bad!” Donut interjected, passing Grif the next gift. “Lopez got the baby a wrench, and that’s not a good baby gift either.” 

The room looked at Lopez who had just come in from outside and was covered in oil and holding some tools. He’d obviously been working on the warthog. [“I didn’t get him anything,”] he said flatly. 

“You’ll do better with the next one, Lopez.” 

“Next one?” Simmons yelped. 

“Of course!” Donut said blithely. “You don’t want Little D to be an only child. He’ll be spoiled and grow up thinking he’s gifted until he goes out into the real world and discovers that he’s not as special as he thought and become an insecure and defensive adult.” 

Grif shrugged, and ripped into the next present while Simmons sputtered in offence like the insecure and defensive adult he was. There was boutique baby bath time stuff including extremely soft towels, bubble bath, and a bottle of wine called _Mommy’s Time Out_. “Thanks, Donut.” 

“You’re very welcome,” Donut beamed. 

Still grumbling, Simmons seemed calmer as he typed in and cataloged the gifts. Kimball brought them a basket of diapers. Each of the lieutenants brought clothing that Little D was going to grow out of in a second, and some hand me downs they’d received as donations. A lot of geeky stuff. Their nerd lieutenants had had nerd parents, of course. 

Tucker gave them a set of teething rings. “Figured you guys might run out of frozen chicken nuggets soon. I looked online and this had good ratings and stuff. My kid would break it in a fucking second, but your kid’s jaw isn’t as strong so you should be good.” 

Grif and Simmons both flipped him off. 

Washington stepped forward when Grif got to the last gift. “I really am sorry that you thought I was taking your baby. That was probably a terrifying situation for a new parent.” 

Grif shrugged. “Eh, I guess I forgive you for kidnapping him. We got him back.” 

“I didn’t kidnap him!" Washington insisted, voice immediately pitching into screeching territory. _"He was rolling around alone in the middle of a field!”_

“Whatever, dude.” Inside the neatly wrapped present was a set of baby genius books Washington must have ordered from off-planet. 

Simmons jumped into Grif’s space to grab them. “Latest edition! They come with flashcards and study tips for the LSATs!” 

“The LSATs? He’s like six months old!” 

“It’s never too early to get a head start,” Simmons insisted, holding the set protectively. Grif could already picture him reading them to Little D. It _was_ a lot better than the Red Team Manual. But they really needed to get him some cool stuff. Like Star Wars. 

The gifts done, it was time to mingle, and finally _eat._ Caboose walked up in full armor, his gun wrapped in crepe paper and a party hat for the festive occasion. “I don’t like babies and I couldn’t get a ticket for skydiving, so I brought Freckles. He has a new hat.” 

“Thanks, Caboose. D appreciates it.” Little D was still snoozing and being passed around. Kimball ignored Carolina’s subtle grim terror and passed the baby to her. 

“D?” She asked, surprised, adjusting her hold as the baby settled in. 

“Yeah, it’s short for Dexter, I guess.” 

“Oh, I used to know someone called D.” For being someone that didn't seem used to kids, Carolina instinctively rocked him a little to settle him, with a slight smile at the memory. “He’s definitely doomed to be a nerd.” 

“With a dad like Simmons—” And then Grif cut himself off, looking around swiftly to make sure Simmons hadn’t heard the slip. 

“Well, I guess I owe you a gift too," Carolina said. "I honestly didn’t think of it. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a… party like this.” 

“Eh, no big deal, you can take him when we need a day off. You’re probably the only one around here we’d trust to babysit.” 

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, and even with a sleeping baby in her arms, Grif was intimidated. “Are you assuming you can leave a living child with me because I’m a woman?” 

“No?” 

“Good. Then I do have something for you.” She smirked once Tucker collected the baby for his turn, and pulled a package of snack cakes out of an outer pocket of her cargo pants. “I was saving these for a special occasion.” 

“Thank you for your contribution,” Grif said. 

Tucker was actually good with babies, but Little D was starting to stir and act unsettled after a couple of minutes. Maybe he was waking up soon. It could be time to eat again. He always got fussy when it was time to eat. 

Grif wasn’t too worried until D’s little hands clenched and a high thin heartbreaking wail started gaining volume. Simmons dropped his plate on the floor without thought, hors d'oeuvres scattering, and sprinted across the room. 

“Lovey, stat!” Sarge cried. 

“On it!” Donut shouted back. 

He and Lopez ran towards the bedrooms as Sarge rounded an accusatory glare at Tucker. “What did you do to him, Blue!” 

“I didn’t do anything, I swear! Kids usually love me!” 

Little D shook his head unhappily from side to side, that high pitched wail giving way to sobs. D was awake now, and his cries weren’t the usual hungry demands. He was sobbing and upset and scared. Simmons carefully took him from Tucker, cradling him close, and Grif leaned in to see what was wrong. 

Simmons adjusted him so Little D's belly was against Simmons' chest, arms wrapped around him in support. Grif rubbed his back in little circles. "It's okay, baby. You're okay." 

Little D burrowed his face in Simmons' shoulder, but the soft words and contact seemed to be calming him down. “I think he just had a nightmare,” Simmons said. 

“Babies can have nightmares?” Carolina asked, mystified. When everyone looked at her, she elaborated defensively. “I’m just saying their brains are so small. What do they even have to be scared of?” 

Well, if you were created in a lab and the first few months of your life were unaccounted for because of scary experiments by scientists or shopping channel people, you might have nightmares. 

Grif really hoped Little D didn’t remember any of that. Hopefully it was just a nightmare about someone playing keep away with a bottle or something. 

With a shuddering breath, the baby’s cries calmed to little hiccups and everyone seemed to untense. Donut came back with his “lovey”: one of Grif’s rattier t-shirts, so soft it was falling apart. Little D clenched a chubby fist around it and started chewing on a seam, fat tears starting to dry on his cheeks. 

“He’s okay,” Simmons reassured everyone while looking at Grif, and Grif nodded, still rubbing the baby's back, not realizing how closely huddled they were. 

Grif or Simmons or one of the Reds kept hold of Little D for the rest of the party. Once he had calmed, the baby was his normal happy curious self, but that was enough passing him around. Grif wasn’t a helicopter parent or anything, but everyone could still _see_ the baby without holding him. 

As the party wound down, Matthews found Grif and Simmons sitting at the table in the kitchen. Little D was still happily chewing on the shirt in Grif's lap. 

“We’re about to head out, but I forgot to attach this to the baby clothes. It’s from all of us.” Matthews was holding a card in his hands. Simmons took it to open since Grif had his hands full. They were close enough that Grif still had a good view. 

The card was on thick stock paper, which was still really hard to get and made it something of a keepsake. It was signed by Jensen, Palomo, Smith, and Bitters, with little notes, except for Bitters who had obviously scrawled his signature across the card last minute. 

Grif stared at the card and did a double take. Matthews beamed back at them, proudly and expectantly. 

In the center, in perfect calligraphy was written _“Congratulations on Baby Grif-Simmons!”_

_Oh no._

“I—What—” Simmons stuttered. 

“Sir?” Matthews looked at Simmons in concern. “Are you malfunctioning? Should I get Doctor Grey? Do you not like it? There is a gift card, uh… I mean not to a real store since we haven’t built one yet, but President Kimball authorized a generous credit for you!” 

“Uh—it’s not—he’s not my— Baby Grif-Simmons?” Simmons asked faintly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Matthews stuttered. “Was it Simmons-Grif? I can change it!” 

“He’s not mine—" Simmons winced. "I-I have to go,” he choked out. 

“Simmons—” Grif started, with no idea what to say when he saw how watery Simmons’ eye was. It didn’t matter, because Simmons took off, leaving Grif and Little D alone in the emptying kitchen. 

“So you decided not to hyphenate?” Matthews asked uncertainly. 

Grif sighed. “Go home, Matthews.” 


	3. Chapter 3

_“Congratulations on Baby Grif-Simmons!”_

_He’s not mine._

This baby wasn’t his. Dexter wasn’t his. He’d wasted no time in creating a spreadsheet of all the gifts they received and what Little D still needs for a happy healthy babyhood. He was planning _for the LSATs._ He was ridiculous. They weren't a family, but he was acting like the celebration was for them—For him. 

Grif’s face went stormy when he saw the card. Of course, that’s natural. Dexter isn’t _Simmons’_ baby. Simmons was taking Grif’s son all the time and undermining his parenting decisions and acting like Dexter was _his_ son. He’d been acting like an idiot. 

The hallway was getting blurry as he stumbled into Grif’s room. Their room basically. Simmons had taken to staying there most nights. Little D didn’t have as many midnight feedings anymore, but he still quieted faster when both of them were there in the middle of the night. 

Or maybe that was in Simmons’ head. What the hell was he doing? And why was he crying? That was so stupid. He was so stupid. 

Simmons heard the door creak open a few minutes later. The sounds of Sarge and Donut talking filtered in from one of the other rooms as Grif came in, holding Dexter. _Grif’s_ son. It’s not like Simmons had a special relationship to him or anything. He was just like Sarge or Donut or Lopez. He didn’t have any special link to Little Dexter at all. 

“Hey, uh…” Grif started. 

Simmons hastily swiped at his eyes, resisting the urge to grab Dexter. He wanted to hold him, but maybe he should train himself to ask or something. He needed to back off if he was giving people the wrong impression. Grif could leave at any time. Simmons shouldn't have let himself get this invested in the first place. 

“Wanna… talk about it?” Grif asked awkwardly. 

“Sorry,” Simmons blurted out. “I’ve been totally selfish. You’re Dexter’s dad and I’ve been acting like he’s _mine_ and making all these decisions without asking you. He doesn't have to study for the LSATs. He could be a janitor if he wants!” 

“Whoa-What?” 

“You probably want your own place and your own life and Dexter needs to go to a good school. He should go to Earth, right? You’ve always wanted to go home. You could take paternity leave.” 

“Simmons. Stop. What the hell are you talking about?” Grif and Dexter were staring at him and they had such similar concerned expressions, noses slightly scrunched. It was hard to look at right now. 

“You’re a single parent and there’s nothing wrong with that, but if you _wanted_ to find another parent for him this is the best time to date, while he’s still little and cute and they’d be his parent from the very beginning. I just want to run some background checks if there's anyone serious. Make sure you take a copy of their ID before you go on any dates. And I could babysit, but if you're on Earth that could—” 

“Simmons, I’m not leaving.” 

That stopped Simmons’ anxious rambling. “What? You don’t picture getting out of the army anymore? Going home?” 

“Of course I do. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. But... things are different now. I dunno if there’s anything to go back to. At least here, there’s a roof over our head. Everyone we’ve been forced acquaintances with for the last fifteen years to help raise the kid. And Sarge would skin me alive if I ever tried to take his best soldier away.” 

“Yeah…” Simmons nodded. That all made sense. For now. But it didn't mean forever. 

“And there’s you.” 

Simmons froze. “What?” 

“Here, we have you," Grif said, finding the top of Dexter's head suddenly interesting. "I don’t know how to deal with colic.” 

“Dexter doesn’t have colic.” 

Grif shrugged. “Okay, well I don’t know how to deal with a lot of this baby/kid stuff. I don’t know any of those songs you’re teaching him and I hate flashcards. He'll flunk out of kindergarten.” He sighed uncomfortably. “You’re the reason I kept him in the first place. If you hadn’t said you’d help, I would have dumped him back in the crate with a ‘return to sender’ sticker on his forehead.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” Simmons said confidently. As soon as Grif held Little D, he was his dad. 

“Sure, I would have. And I definitely would’ve tried to feed him Doritos by now.” 

Simmons snorted. “I’ve caught you trying to feed him Oreos twice.” 

“Only cuz I wanted you to catch me,” Grif said. “He could’ve been kidnapped by the Blues.” 

“That did happen.” 

“Yeah, while I was watching him. See? You can’t leave me alone for a second.” 

“Shut up, Grif. You’re a good dad,” Simmons blurted out. 

“Yeah, well. So are you,” Grif said, voice gone soft and eyes meeting his for just a moment before looking away. “You’re a good dad, and I can’t do this without you. You're the reason he's here and he loves you and I don't know the schedules. So, you’re stuck with us.” Grif held Little D out, who grinned in delight at being in the air. “Come on, Simmons. Are you going to abandon us now?” 

Simmons gave Grif a shaky smile. “No. You’d let him watch too much TV. It’s not recommended until he’s at least two years old.” 

They were still busy making sappy eye contact when Little D smacked his lips. He looked up at Simmons with his big brown doe eyes, cooing and babbling in agreement. When Simmons reached for him, he grasped Simmons’ thumb with dimpled hands and clearly said, “Dada.” 

“Did he just—“ Grif looked back and forth between them with wide eyes. 

“No, no. He’s too little to mean it.” But his heart was beating so fast. 

“Dadadada,” Little D said, seeming to like the new noise and how they were both reacting to it. "Da!" 

Dexter was just making sound. He was just doing it because they were giving him attention. Simmons read all the baby books and they start to understand cause and effect at this age. Dexter doesn’t know what he’s doing but he… He still called Simmons _Dad._

Simmons melted. 

He’d deny he’d had the adoption documents saved for any length of time, but they were ready to be filed the next morning. 

They didn’t hyphenate. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Pirate for tolerating me brainstorming the last scene.


End file.
